Always There
by Verrarria
Summary: The thoughts of a young child are strong. Their magic, even stronger. And Harry Potter knows that there's something there, a feeling of greatness. He knew about it. How could he not? It's always, always, there.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does.

* * *

><p><em>"I don't know, Ced. I always thought that people would like <em>me_ for me, not for me being The-Boy-Who-Lived, or some other variant. Obviously, people don't want to get to know someone so...different." -Harry Potter to a worried Cedric Diggory, Summer of 1994._

**Always There**

**Chapter One**

_**A Feeling of Greatness**_

Harry Potter knew he was different. Well, not different in the terms of being physical different, if you don't count his extraordinary lightning-bolt scar on his forehead. He felt he was different that went much deeper than the physicality, than the mentality of it all. Harry Potter felt, _knew_, he was different in a way deep down in his soul. Sometimes, there were accidents. Accidents of an abnormal measure. Harry knew these accidents came from him, he could feel it. He could feel the rolling of an almost untameable power somewhere deep in his being. Actually two, but who's counting?

He was five when he accidently broke something; he was reading a book, and as he was about to finish it, the main character just died. This angered him so much that something happened, something, as stated before, abnormal. Or extraordinary, depending on who you ask. What happened was that almost everything around him, glass, wood, even the carpet, was, let's say, obliterated. Quite like an explosion, except not so great and not so loud. Harry Potter was terrified. Terrified of what happened, and terrified of what he could feel. Not known to him, that was the day Harry Potter first had his experience with accidental magic.

There were other times, yes, but not so prominent as his first one. What he could feel, was actually his magic. And sometimes, when Harry Potter closed his eyes, he could see a ball of pure fire, except that it wasn't hot, and beside that, a smaller, darker ball of malice and deadly intent. After that, he rarely had bouts of accidental magic. His uncle, being a man of understanding the brain, of understanding the body, had helped with these occurrences. His aunt, had said nothing, not necessarily liking the boy who had lived with them.

Obviously, that was Harry Potter accidently finding he had magic in himself. Now, it is time to tell you about his life. Harry was adopted into the family of his blood-related aunt, Petunia Evans, or now, Petunia Davies, and Timothy Davies, his uncle by marriage. His aunt had never liked him, but never did anything abusive. His uncle was someone who Harry Potter admired greatly. Tim Davies was very great at reading people, knowing almost everything about the mind, also had something deeper in himself, just like Harry Potter, and being a great person in general. He was like a father to Harry Potter, that if Harry's name wasn't Harry Potter, than he'd swear it would be Harry Davies, or Harry Davies-Potter, or Harry Potter-Davies. But it wasn't, and Harry was Harry James Potter, not Harry James Davies, or Harry James Davies-Potter...

Harry's life was mostly with his uncle, and not his aunt. It was a very practical way of life, nothing never dangerous happened, even though Harry was quite courageous. Harry knew better than to get into trouble. He also loved learning, with his uncle supplying all sorts of books from adventure to science and everything in between. Harry was also a hard-worker, nurtured by his aunt, who always sent him to do chores. And there was his cunning; if asking multiple times to see if he could get something, finding a way of getting it himself, or doing enough chores and then some, this was something as a last-resort. Harry Potter had a way with words, and knowing, from his uncle, the ways people moved their body's as they were thinking, of what they were feeling, Harry usually was able to find a way to get what he wanted.

It wasn't too extraordinary. It wasn't too normal, either. Harry grew up loved and nourished. But Harry had always another thought that things could be worse. He could've lived with abusive people, or maybe even in an orphanage. Who knew?

**||/\/\/\|||/\/\/\||**

Harry had little time for trifle's such as the prank letter he had received from one very fake "Deputy Head Mistress," and this _magic_ school. Who did they think he was...after rereading the letter Harry realized he was in a bad mood, and knew, at once, that the letter was quite real. Also the little flare of magic that he received from opening the parchment, made his thoughts concrete. "Well...that went out of hand," Harry muttered to himself, "...Nah, not really. I mean, I didn't go so far as to burning the damn thing, did I?"

Anyway, it was time to find his uncle. His uncle would probably be able to help him. Harry, being quite lazy and not wanting to be roused to move, had yelled, "Timmeh!" once. And five seconds later, Timothy Davies was there in all his tall glory. Timothy was a lanky man, but not without attractive facial features and a laugh that was pure silk. His hair was a shaggy brown mess, obviously he was laying down, and his clothes, a white dress shirt and dark dress pants, were crumpled. "What's up, Harry?" Timothy said, as he saw nothing wrong with Harry, "What did you need?"

Harry smiled, and replied, "I want to know everything about being a wizard, please. And, seeing how you are one, it would be very kind of you to tell me something about it..." then adding, as an after thought, "Please."

Timothy looked at Harry, his dark hair a mess as usual, his clothing nothing but nice, dark jeans and a silk shirt, and smiled his beautiful smile, "Of course Harry, I was wondering when you were going to get your letter. Now...let's see...where should I begin?"

"Beginning, please. Who were my parent's?" Harry almost yelling, a grin plastered on his face.

"Ahh, your parents?" the older man said, a fond smile on his face, "I didn't know them personally, but they did help me a bit. Your mother was Lily Evans, and your father James Potter. Two great people, and even greater at what they did, which was magic..."

Timothy didn't stop talking for hours, in which he answered Harry's questions. Harry, in fact, contrary to popular belief, was not sad at all when he heard about his parent's deaths. Of course, knowing that they were already probably dead in the beginning, he was more mad than anything. Mad at the man named Voldemort, mad at Sirius Black, but most of all the thinking that the Dark Lord was actually _gone_. Obviously, he couldn't be defeated by a one-year-old baby, and also shooting the Killing Curse, something must have happened. Something like a split in his soul, which Harry reasoned was the dark ball of soul and magic that was ever so close to his own bright ball of magic.

Timothy kept on going, past his parents to Hogwarts itself, a wonderful-sounding building, the teachers, wonderful-sounding people, even the highly foul Snape, and then on to most of Magical Britain. There was lots more explaining, and then a letter to the Deputy Head Mistress. It was one of the most exhausting days of Harry's life, and he just wanted to sleep.

**||\/\/|||\/\/||**

Harry Potter could not help but feel great when he entered the Leaky Cauldron. He handled things quite well, even if some of the people trying to get a piece of him _had_ unnerved him a bit, but it was the man in purple robes, with a turban cover his head, that had him the most terrified. He felt a connection to something the man had on him, not sure what, and when he looked behind him, his scar had started burning. Quickly turning away, his uncle led them to a brick wall. But before Harry could say anything about being in a dead end, Timothy was showing Harry the correct way to enter Diagon Alley. Three up, two across-three times. And what Harry saw made him jump in joy. It was amazing. That was the only word that Harry could describe the place as. And the magic that was like a flood, it felt...calming and exciting.

Witches and Wizards everywhere, shops aligning...everywhere. As the pair walked, dodging and weaving, Harry couldn't help but notice the beautiful building, all white and shiny. "That's Gringott's," Timothy informed the young Harry, "The bank for magic-kind! That's where we're going to get you money!"

Nodding, Harry followed the man into the beautiful building..."Um...what-who-are those?" Harry asked, unnerved as he saw small, ugly creatures behind desks and all around.

Laughing, Timothy said, "Those are goblins, a magical race that runs the bank. They are, uhh, very...what's the word?...blunt? No...well, you'll see, Harry."

And Harry could see, also hear, the distaste and disdain on the creature's face as he said, "Who will be opening their vault?"

"Ah, it's Harry here, first day too! Isn't that exciting?" Tim told the small creature.

The goblin scowled, then drawled, "Of _course _it is. Now, key please." Hey, at least they had _some_ semblance of manners. Also, the sarcasm was duly noted.

"Yes, of course," Timothy searched through his right-front pocket on his jeans and came out with a small key, not to intricately designed, "Here ya go!" The man handed the key to the goblin.

Nodding, the goblin barked, "Madrick, escort Harry Potter to his vault!"

A grumbling goblin came up, grabbed the key and started to walk away, "Follow me."

Harry and Tim followed the goblin through a few doors then...a roller coaster. A goddamned, glorified roller coaster. Harry looked wide-eyed, wondering how fun it would be to go down on the thing. When Harry and Tim entered the cart safely, followed by Madrick, the little goblin started going at once. It was fast, it was exciting, and this made Harry laugh with joy. How could he _not_? Even though it was a short ride, Harry couldn't help have a huge grin on his face. He wanted to do it again. But, before he could ask, Madrick had stepped up to a very big, very metal, door. Slipping the key into the lock and turning, Harry heard sounds of clicking and whirring. The locking mechanism must have been huge! When the door opened, Harry was filled with awe. Heaps of gold galleons, towers of silver sickles, and piles of bronze knuts. Harry, before anyone could move to stop him, had ran and jumped into the piles of magical-Britain currency. "Monayy!" Harry yelled out, before saying, in a much calmer tone, "Hey, do you have any pouches that could be connected to this? Like a muggle credit-card?"

Timothy's face brightened at the sound of that, "What an amazing idea, Harry!"

"Yes, we do have those," Madrick said in his deep, guttural voice. Which was surprising, considering how small he was, "If you would like to buy one, then it's fifty galleons. And, before you say anything, we know it is a steep price, but they aren't really in demand. Now, let me explain the contents of this vault which is just money. This vault contains 550 00 galleons, and will add 50 000 galleons each year on your birthday. Seeing as how you had never spent any, that means eleven times fifty-five, well, you can figure it out on your own. This vault, or trust-fund, is supplied from the main Potter vault.

"You may enter the Potter vault now, but you cannot take any money. You may take books, or scrolls, or letters, and maybe even a painting, only if the painting is one of your relatives. You will be able to take everything when you turn seventeen, or you may be emancipated to become an adult when you are fourteen. You also have the ability to claim the Slytherin vault, and the Black vault, seeing as how you are the only heir to each of those vaults alive, not in prison, and not renounced as a Black or Slytherin. Would you like to lay claim to these vaults?

"Yes, I would like to claim the Black and Slytherin vaults as the last heir to each of these families..."

"You will be able to open the vaults, and become Head of those families, when you reach the age of consent or get emancipated to become an adult."

"Nice! Wait! Head of the family?"

Madrick scowl grew deeper, "I should rephrase: You are the Head of each of those families as of now. If you get emancipated you will be able to open the vaults and make decisions for that family at once, but not before that."

Harry nodded, then counted out fifty galleons. "This is for the pouch of unending Potter money!"

Madrick smiled at the feeling of gold in his palms, "Thank you, Mr. Potter..."

**|||\/\/\/|\/\/\/|||**

"Harry..." Timothy said as they walked out of Gringott's, "You are too smart for your own good."

Harry could only laugh at that, "So, where to next?"

"Hmm...Well, you should get your wand. Then we can get a trunk for everything you need. Oh, the selections! We're going to get you a great trunk, with five rooms, two secret compartments and you'll be the only one who's allowed in it! How does that sound?"

"The things I could do! Hundreds of books, a bedroom! I could even hide a body in it!"

Timothy looked at the young boy in deadpan, "Ha ha, very funny Harry. You should be a stand-up comedian."

"Think so, Uncle Tim?" Harry looked at the man innocently, even though his body language had a mischievous quality to it, "Thank you, so much for that compliment!...Now, where to?"

Tim smiled, "Ollivander's, of course. One of the best wand-maker's in all of Britain. I'll probably get myself a new one if I say so myself, my old wand broke. Saddened me, to say the least."

And so, the pair went off, weaving and dodging the people who were also shopping. After a few minutes, Harry saw an old building with a sign that had Ollivander's on it. Obviously the wand shop, Harry entered with Tim. No one was there behind the counter, and when walking towards it, Harry could feel the magic coming from every single wand. Some called out to him, some he could feel hate rolling off of, but nothing to substantial. "Welcome, welcome," a voice appeared behind them. This scared Harry, who jumped up and around and set himself into a fighting stance.

"Oh god!" the young boy screamed, "WHY!?"

The old man, obviously an old man, with grey hair and wrinkles, chuckled, "Because I love to see the reactions on the faces of new witches an wizards, of course."

Timothy was laughing hysterically, "Oh Harry, your reactions are the best!"

"So, Harry Potter, eh?" Ollivander said, "And Timothy Davies. Coming to get a new wand? I remember your wand, like I do with every other wand. 14 and 1/2 inches, yew with a dragon heart-string core. Flexible, an aptitude towards shield charms...sad, then, that it was broken. Coming for a new one, I suppose?"

Timothy only nodded. "So, Mr. Potter, a wand for you?" Ollivander muttered as he took Harry's measurements, "Hmm...I might have a few..."

Finishing, Ollivander quickly walked towards a shelf with multiple black boxes on them. Pulling a box, he opened the lid and looked inside. As the old man walked closer, Harry said, "No. Not that one."

Ollivander raised an eye-brow, "Hmm..." He grabbed another box and as he walked closer Harry said, "Definitely not that one."

It went on in this vein for three more wands until Ollivander found one that Harry was actually considering. "So," Ollivander said, "Holly, eleven inches long, with a phoenix feather core." The man handed the wand to the boy.

Nothing happened, "Not this one either...nothing feels right, Mr. Ollivander. But I have an idea. Why don't you make me one?"

Ollivander laughed, "You are a first, Harry Potter. The first child to ask me to make a wand. Come with me, then."

The man led Harry to a back room with many blocks of wood, ranging from red colours to white to black. "Please place a hand on each of these."

Harry followed the orders and started placing his hand on each one. He felt nothing for yew, or oak, or holly. Continuing on to the darker woods, Harry finally felt something with ebony. "This is the wood," the young boy said.

"Ebony, it is then. Now, it's time for you to choose a core," Ollivander brought Harry to a different room filled with magic cores, "Now, please choose the ones that feel right to you."

Nodding, Harry started walking along the shelves, his eyes closed, his magic feeling their magic. Opening his eyes, Harry saw a silver liquid, which called out to him. Moving on, he looked at a phoenix feather, deciding that he needed one of those too. Going on, the young boy felt a connection to ground unicorn horn, which he wanted too. As he kept on walking, he felt a pull to Basilisk venom. Harry smiled, knowing his choices, "Mr. Ollivander, I would like the unicorn's blood, the second phoenix feather to the right, the ground unicorn horn, and the Basilisk venom, please."

Eyes widening, Ollivander grinned, "Four cores? Such a challenge. Harry, this will take a few hours, so come back later and I'll have it ready. It costs quite a bit, so please bring enough money."

"Yes sir!" Harry called out before going to Timothy, who had already bought a wand while Harry was looking at cores, "I'm ready Tim!"

Tim grinned at the young boy, "Good then. Now, it's time to get you a trunk! Time to find the shop called..."

**|\/||||\/|**

"...Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment!"

Harry raised an eyebrow, "What kind of name is Wiseacre?"

"No idea, Harry," Timothy said, "Maybe the last name?"

Harry smiled, "Ah, yes, of course it is."

Entering the shop, the pair were met with all types of gizmos ranging from telescopes to trunks to one-size-fits-all robes. There were also a haphazardly pile of books, teetering side-to-side. If it would fall, there would be a disaster. The books would hit a telescope on a pivot, which would swing to hit mirrors, which would fall like dominos. The last mirror would tumble over a cage with a dog in it. The dog would then end up being released and run straight into glass orbs, which would fall and shatter around the robes. The robes would have to be picked clean of glass. Harry went straight to the books to sort them out, seeing a multitude of interesting names such as, _Battle Magic, Volume One-Four_, _See This? This is a Transfiguration Book. Read it and Become a Master!_, _Potion Brewing, All you Need to Know_, and _Intermediate Charms, Book One_. They were all interesting enough that Harry grabbed hold of them.

Tim only looked on in amusement at the Harry's fretting. "Okay...all done," Harry said, tiredly, "I'm going to _so _chew out the owner for that. There was a disaster just waiting to happen!"

And that's what he did, when the pair moved to the back-end of the store, "_Excuse_ me, sir, but I took notice of something that could have cause serious harm: A tower of books almost ready to fall towards a telescope which would swing around and cause this place to be a disaster-zone! Thankfully for you, I sorted the books out so it's much safer. Also, these four, seven?, books I want! And a trunk, but not just any trunk, the best trunk you got!"

The owner, Willius Wiseacre, just stared deadpan at Harry, "I'd like to introduce you to something called magic. It's very useful, being able fix anything, _and_ heal people, to top it all off."

"Touché."

"En garde."

Harry and the owner of the shop had a little stare down. Timothy coughed, "You're arguing with an eleven-year-old...On to that trunk?"

Wiseacre scratched the back of his head as he laughed in embarrassment, "Yes, of course. And the best one you said? Seven compartments, each different sizes; three metres by metres all the way to eighteen metres by eighteen metres, all customizable. Secret shelves, secret cubbies. You'll be able to make it able to fit in you pocket if you just tap it with your wand and say 'smaller.' And only at the price of 1000 galleons!...plus ten galleons each for the books, so grand total of 1070 galleons, please."

Only nodding, Harry pulled out his little pouch and flipped it over the counter. Galleons started flowing out of the bag, and after a little bit, Harry placed the bag back in his pocket. "Keep the change," Timothy said sarcastically.

"Oh yes, you can keep the rest of it. A nice tip for your services if I say so myself," Harry laughed, "Thank you, Mr. Wiseacre."

Wiseacre raised an eyebrow, which had a really alarming affect on Harry, "Call me Willius, Harry. I'll be right back with your trunk."

"No point in introducing myself when I can just lift my bangs up and show everyone my scar, eh?" Harry grinned. Willius laughed as he went to a backroom to grab Harry's trunk.

Two moments later, the man returned with a small, rectangular box in his hand, "To enlarge it, Harry, just tap it with your wand and say 'larger.' Alright?"

Harry nodded once, "Got it. Bye Willius!"

Willius waved a goodbye as Harry and Tim left. Timothy laughed, "Oh, how I love that man! We were great friends in Ravenclaw. Now, time to go to Flourish and Blott's! A bookstore, if you're wondering. We're, and when I mean we, I actually mean you, are going to get you the books you need."

Harry followed Tim as the went kept walking, looking around the busy lines of shops. He noticed his arms growing heavy, and realized that he still had the books he bought in hand. "Hey, Tim, you want to hold my books?" Harry said to the man, "Seeing as how I can't really make my trunk larger without a wand, well...free labour!" And with that, Harry dumped his books into Timothy's hands, "Thank you, Tim."

Tim could only sigh, "Harry...you're _horrible_."

Harry scowled before following Tim once again. As they kept up walking, Harry noticed Timothy tense up. Looking around, Harry did not see anyone who was scary or intimidating enough to garner that reaction from his Uncle. Then he noticed a blonde man, with a scowl on his face. The man looked nasty, dangerous, and an over-all bad guy. Beside him was a boy who looked like the man...but much, much younger. On the other side of the man was a fairly attractive woman with black and blonde hair, also with a scowl on her face. Harry couldn't help but think that the man was the reason Tim had tensed. Passing the obvious family, Timothy finally let out a breath. "What was that about?" Harry asked.

Timothy looked at Harry, "Death Eater."

Now Harry understood. Death Eaters; followers of the Dark Lord Voldemort, nasty people. Nasty, nasty people. And not just any kind of nasty; they were the _nasty_ kind. The so nasty kind that you want to take off running from the moment you see them..."Harry. Harry!" Tim called out to the young boy, "Are you listening to me?"

"I'm sorry," Harry said, "But what?"

"Of course you weren't listening to me," Tim sighed in exasperation, "Anyway, I was saying just to be careful of him and his offspring; you never know what they might have up their sleeve."

Nodding once, Harry went the way of silence. They were finally reaching their obvious destination. Flourish and Blott's had books on display,_ Wand and Gun: History between Wizard and Muggle_ being one of them. Not an overly interesting title, but it did sound like a decent read. Harry might buy it, just to understand the relationship between wizards and non-wizards. Entering the shop, Harry was met with one of his favourite sights; books, tomes, books, and scrolls. He loved entering a bookstore and seeing all the books. Books to his left, book to his right. So many books. Harry was already liking Diagon Alley.

**||/\\/\||/\||/\\/\||**

Harry could only laugh at Tim, who was having troubles carrying his books. Harry kept laughing as they sat down to eat ice-cream. Harry finally stopped when they were in front of Ollivander's. Tim sighed, losing three-and-a-half hours of his life in a bookstore. He could've been doing something else, but _no_ Harry kept him there, saying he needed Tim for moral support. What an annoying nephew! Harry laughed at the pained expression on Tim's face, "We're here, Timmy. Now I can get my wand then open my trunk."

"And then?" Timothy asked.

"Then you can put my books in there."

"And then?"

"Then you'll feel much better."

"And then?"

"Um...then you don't have to carry anything anymore...?"

"And then?"

Harry walked inside of the wand shop. Timothy was just messing with him. "Excuse me, Mr. Ollivander?"

Out of the shadows came the one clad in black armour, with the One Ring on his finger...out of the backroom came the old wand-maker. He was obviously tired as he croaked, "Mr. Potter...You came at the right time. You're wand is ready."

Harry grinned, and he almost ran to the back. He stopped before he could, deciding on a much calmer pace. He noticed, when he finally made it to the counter, a black stick, radiating a dangerous magic. A dangerous magic that called out to him, a dangerous magic the just felt so..._right._ Harry picked it up and felt...There was always a feeling in the back of Harry's mind, a feeling of something more. And finally, Harry knew what this feeling was: It was a feeling of greatness. Harry laughed, "This...this wand is perfect! I love it."

Ollivander smiled, "16 and 1/2 inches, ebony. Not at all flexible. Perfect for casting curses, and jinxes. Cores of unicorn blood, basilisk venom, a phoenix feather and ground unicorn horn. It was such a challenge, to mix these cores. I had to combine the blood and venom with the horn, almost caused an explosion before it evened out, then I soaked the feather in the mixture, and soaked the wood in the mixture. This wand is one of the most beautiful wands I've ever made, Mr. Potter, use it well."

Harry nodded, once, before breaking the mood, "So, what's the price?"

"Yes, of course. The wand will be 45 galleons, 13 sickles, and 23 knuts."

Harry grabbed his pouch of never-ending money, and counted out 46 galleons, "Keep the change, sir!"

Harry pranced outside to see Tim sitting down on his pile of books. What a lazy man! Grabbing his trunk out of his trousers pocket, Harry tapped it with his wand and whispered, "Larger." The trunk grew to be four feet across, two feet wide, and two feet high. Opening it, Harry saw that there were seven latches. Confused, Harry grabbed the middle one and turned. Stairs appeared. Stairs, which lead into a pretty big room. "Um...Tim, just throw my books in here. I guess this is going to be my library..." Harry was not expecting any of the rooms to be this big. Obviously, he forgot what metres were, "Now where are we going?"

"Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions, where _you_ are going to be fitted in robes for Hogwarts." Timothy replied, an easy tone in his voice.

Harry sighed, "Why robes? Why can't we just wear whatever? Seriously! What's the good in robes?"

Timothy had a hand up, ready with a reply, until he realized what Harry had said. Lowering his hand, Timothy thought. Thought and thought before, "I have no clue. They're comfortable?"

"I don't know actually, if they're comfortable I mean. That's why we're going to get some. Also, to see if I should bother."

Walking for a few more moments, Harry saw the building that was obviously Madam Malkin's. A few, nice-looking robes were on display. Harry shrugged as he walked in, leaving Tim with his trunk outside. The first thing, or _person_, rather, that Harry had noticed was a boy around his age, with blonde hair, gelled back. A sneer was across his face, and Harry decided not to like him...that's not counting he was the boy from before. A woman appeared, holding onto robes, "Oh, customer. Mave, get out here!"

A pattering of steps, and then a young woman, flushed from the rush, came bursting out into the ground floor. She was rocking a multi-coloured afro, and had funky robes, different colours, different designs. She looked to Harry, then back to the older woman, then to the blonde, then back to Harry. She flicked her head to a raised platform, next to the blonde. Nodding, Harry strode to the platform. "Oh, hello," the blonde said, "Here for your robes too?"

Harry slowly turned his head, a dull expression on his face, and said, in an unnervingly disturbing voice, "What make's you say that?"

Not noticing the sarcasm, the blonde continued, "Well, this is a robe shop, where you buy robes."

"I hate you."

"Why!?"

"I don't even know who you are. I don't even know _how_ you are."

"Draco Malfoy, and my father inseminated my mother."

Turning back to the vibrant young woman, Harry whispered, "Please...hurry. Mave, if you have any good in you...you'll finish my robes fast. Just the..._stupidity_."

Thankfully, the older woman finally finished with the Malfoy's robes, made him pay and sent him out. "Thank you so much Madam Malkin," Harry exhaled slowly in relief.

The older woman nodded before leaving to a backroom. The whole exchange couldn't have lasted more than five minutes. And Mave was on the floor, laughing. "Uh...you done there?" Harry deadpanned.

The younger woman shakily stood, trying to hold back laughs. She didn't even know what was so funny. Harry just really didn't like the blonde. Maybe it was something about him? Who knows? "Raise your arms, spread your legs," the woman cut through Harry's thoughts.

"And dance?"

"Not yet," the woman smiled, "That's reserved for when we're drunk."

...

"I'm eleven, you know that right?"

...

"Magic."

"Oh, yes. The supposed answer for everything. Eh, with magic, what could the harm really be?"

"Who knows? I don't"

"Me neither."

Mave let out a laugh, "Okay, we're finished here. I'll be right back with your robes."

_What...just_ happened?

**||/\\|||/\\||**

Harry was thoroughly confused by the time he left Madam Malkin's. He honestly didn't know what happened. Mave was awesome, but left Harry with questions like 'How crazy are witches and wizards,' and 'Why did Magical Pim kill his brother?'...Don't ask about the latter question. It is a story filled with sex, pain, and confusing math questions; not something the minds of littler people could comprehend. "Hey, Harry!" Tim broke Harry's thoughts, "Did you have fun?"

Wide-eyed, Harry could only nod silently, "W-what do we do now?"

Tim frowned at the way Harry was acting, "We can get the rest at a later date."

**/||\\/||\\**

September First. The day Harry would finally be going to Hogwarts. Some would think Harry excited for this. But he wasn't. In fact, Harry was feeling dread, as he glared at the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten. Harry was feeling dread because of who he was. Because he was Harry _freaking_ Potter. Being a celebrity was a serious piss off. At least he had been amused when his aunt finally found out that his uncle was a wizard...

_"What's this?" an angry blonde woman seethed as she held a thin piece of wood, "What. Is. This!"_

_A handsome man with shaggy brown hair was backing into the corner of a kitchen, a look of pure terror on his face. "T-that's my wand!" Timothy Davies stuttered, "P-please d-d-don't br-break it..."_

_Petunia squinted her eyes the man, "You're a wizard? Why didn't you tell me?"_

_Timothy only shook his head, "You hate magical kind, but I_ loved_ you. Still love you. I lied about my being a wizard, got kicked out of my family, all for you. Also to get you away from that fat ass Dursley."_

_The woman's body relaxed, her eyes softening. She walked towards Tim and brought him into a kiss. And Harry was just watching with a smirk in place. The only sad part was that Tim didn't get_ hurt.

Obviously his aunt was pissed but she was over it in a flash. True love conquers all for some people. Sighing, Harry stepped through the barrier. What he first saw was a big, red choo-choo train. So, wizards _did_ use muggle transport. Fun. Then, Harry noticed everything else; people. Lots of people. It was unacceptable the way everyone was around. Pure chaos. They should make some type of system to get people on the train easier. Dodging a swerving, Harry finally made it through the throng of wizards and witches and reached the train. It took too long. Scowling, Harry climbed the steps into the train. Turning to the right, Harry strolled down the train compartments. Most of them were full, and the one's that weren't had people who looked _absolutely _terrifying. Scowl growing deeper, Harry trudged on, finally finding a compartment. No one was in it. _Thank God_, were Harry's only thoughts as he entered the compartment. Harry could only collapse onto the bench in exhaustion.

Harry did not sleep well, last night. He had a fitful sleep. No dreams. No nightmares. Just nervousness. Nervousness and a mixture of anger and hope. When he actually fell asleep, Tim woke him not a half hour later. It made Harry grouchy. It made Harry irritable. It made Harry _mad_. And a lot of people do not like Harry Potter mad. A red-haired boy knocked on the door, then opened it, "Hey, could I sit here? All the others are full."

Harry seriously doubted that all the other compartments were full. But, on the left hand there's the possibility that he could go out and see for himself or...yeah, no thank you. Harry's staying where he is. "Sure, go ahead," was his simple response.

"Oh, thanks!" the ginger said, closing the door behind him and placing his luggage on the rack above, "I'm Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley."

Harry smiled, "I'm Harry Potter."

"_The_ Harry Potter?"

"...What do you mean '_The_ Harry Potter?' Don't ask stupid questions. Of course I know who I am."

"Where's your scar?"

Harry didn't know if it was Sunday's that made him mad. He didn't know if it was because he didn't get any sleep. But, Harry was mad, "Where_ do you_ think?"

Ron didn't notice the angered tone of voice that Harry used, "Umm...your forehead? Do you remember the night you got it?"

Eyeing the boy, Harry started to ignore him. Obviously this Ron had no tact. Laying down, Harry closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

"Have any of you seen Neville's toad?" a female voice cut into Harry's sleep, making the boy get up and look around. What he saw was a rat get sent back a few steps by Ron. Rubbing his eyes groggily, Harry turned to see the intruder. Bushy brown hair, a look of pure wonder, "Oh, trying magic? I tried a few spells at home. I'm quite new to magic, you see. My parents are muggles."

Harry just gawked at her. _Okay...so I've met a stupid idiot, an actual idiot, and now an annoying idiot. Obviously, no one here is sane..._ Harry thought. "Oh, sorry. My name is Hermione Granger."

Ron looked irritated, "Ron Weasley."

Hermione walked in and sat down on the bench, "And you?"

Harry automatically lifted his bangs up, showing of his scar. "Harry Potter? I've read all about you!"

"All lies," whispered The-Boy-Who-Lived, "All lies. They don't know anything about me. All lies..."

And with that, Harry stood up sharply and skedaddled out of the compartment. He was _not_ dealing with those two. Walking like a zombie, Harry didn't know what to think. Opening a compartment, not noticing any of the students inside it, walked in and sat down. "Um...hello?" a confused female voice took Harry out of his thoughts.

Harry looked at her with a blank expression. She was of Asian ethnicity. Dark hair. A raven crest was on her robes, where her heart would be. Ravenclaw. "Hi...How's it goin'?" Harry asked dumbly.

"Good?" she was still confused, "Why are you here?"

"Am I really here? Or is this just a figment of your imagination? Who knows? Because I sure as hell don't."

Then a male voice spoke up, "Who are you?" Harry turned his head to his right. Yellow trim robes. Hufflepuff. Huh.

Harry's eyes widened, "Who am I? That's...that's a really good question. Sometimes, I'm not sure who I am. Sometimes I think I'm a rock-star from Mars. Sometimes I think I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi from Stars Wars. 'These are not the droids you are looking for,' eh?"

"Well...I'm Cedric," Cedric said, "And that," the Ravenclaw, "Is Cho."

"Okay, then...I'm Harry Potter."

"Really?" Cedric raised an eyebrow, "I would think that Harry Potter would look more intimidating."

Harry frowned, "Are you versed in three martial arts? No? I am. I could hurt you pretty bad, even though I'm not physically stronger than you. Shifting weight, elbows. Looks can be deceiving."

Cedric blinked before looking at Cho. "So, Harry..." the Ravenclaw started, "Looking forward to Hogwarts?"

Laughing, Harry replied, "Not really. It's going to be terrible if you think about it; I'm the Boy-Who-Lived. Famous. A celebrity. They'll get to know the Saviour, not me."

"And who's the Saviour?"

"No idea."

"And who are you?"

"Harry Potter."

Cho looked at Harry deadpan. Shaking her head, she rested her head against the window. Cedric spoke up, "So, Harry."

"Yes?" came Harry's quick response.

"...Nothing," Cedric said.

Then an awkward silence filled the compartment. In the next few hours Harry changed into his robes, played wizard chess with Cho (in which he lost miserably) and chatted idly with the two. When the train finally started to slow, Harry looked across Cedric and out the window. He could barely see anything, it was that dark. The train stopped. "So...we're here?" Harry asked expectantly.

A nod from Cho confirmed Harry's question. Harry opened the compartment and quickly exited into the small walkway. Taking a left, Harry went towards the place of exit and jumped out onto the ground. The good thing about having a size-changeable trunk was that he didn't have to carry it with two hands. It saved so much time. Being the first one off the train, Harry had ample time to see his surroundings; a pathway led to carriages with interesting-looking animals, and a giant of a man. Minutes later most every student was off the train and the giant was calling for first years.

Quickly making his way towards the man, Harry noticed Draco. Harry also noticed red-head Ron and brunette Hermione. So, keeping himself out of sight of the three, Harry kept to the back to the group.

The giant, nodding to himself in satisfaction, started to lead them towards a dock. A dock where wooden boats were waiting for them. "Three to a boat," the giant man stated.

Harry shrugged and jumped into a boat. A few seconds later two girls hopped in the boat too. One was blonde and the other a red-head. The red-head spoke first, "Hiya! The name's Susan!"

"And mine is Hannah," the blonde was hesitant.

"Harry Potter," the young boy had raised his eyebrows.

"You mean _the_ Harry Potter? Susan asked, quite taken away.

Harry scowled at her, then said with a voice laced with sarcasm, "_Noo._ I mean the other Harry Potter that lives down the street. Of course _the_ Harry Potter!"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Harry sighed, "I'm just not in a good mood."

The two girls nodded at that and the rest of the boat ride went on in relative silence. "Oohh..." Harry opened his eyes and turned around. What he saw was amazing; a castle with light coming out of windows, the moon shining down on the building. "Meh," was Harry's outward feelings but on the inside... _That is so freaking cool!_

Susan looked at Harry with a scowl, "Your reaction is a 'meh'? Just a 'meh'? Who are you?"

"Harry Potter," Harry could only grin.

"Yes, we know you're Harry Potter..." Hannah stated, "...Oh...Ha. Ha. Very funny, Harry."

Harry smirked, "What can I say? I'm a crowd pleaser."

"_Of course you are..." _the two females said together.

Harry looked at them, physically reeling back. Hannah and Susan looked at each other and then laughed. And then Harry laughed. Maybe he might make friends?

**|||/\/||\/\|||**

The first thing Harry noticed about Hogwarts was the magic. It was powerful, but not suffocating. It was actually quite welcoming, and Harry felt warm.

"The firs'-years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid to a very strict-looking woman.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here," said woman then took over.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "'The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarted yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.' Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Harry looked around, noting the nervousness of Hannah and Susan. "I will return when we are ready for you," said Proffessor Mconagall. "Please wait quietly."

"Who'd bring a toad?" a snobby voice came over as McGonagall left.

Harry looked over and saw Draco with two large boys at his side. Before he could come to defend the boy with the toad, obviously Neville if he remembered correctly, Ron's voiced his opinions, "Bugger off, Malfoy. No one wants you here."

A sneer was placed on Draco's face, "Well, looks like the Weasel has garnished some courage. I wonder how you came across the money to go to Hogwarts? Your family is rather poor."

And this is where Harry came in, stopping the argument, "Really, Draco? Insulting someone because of their money? Your so immature. And Ron, really? 'No one wants you here'? That's the best you got? Hopefully I'm not in a house with either of you."

"It's you!" the blonde said.

"Who?" Harry asked.

"You."

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"Not her?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Now, I demand your name."

Harry's mouth fell open, "No, you will not know my name...yet. And everybody who knows my name, I will hex you if you say anything. I'm not afraid to do it, I am H-" Harry laughed nervously, "Almost spilled the secret-that's-not-so-secret...Huh."

McGonagall returned, and in her strict, no-nonsense voice, "Move along now, the Ceremony is about to start."

The giant doors opened to reveal four long tables, students filling the benches. Along the back were the teachers, sitting in very extravagant chairs. In front of the teacher's table was a stool with a hat on it. McGonagall strode forward and stood by the hat, which started to sing, which was quite the surprise:

_Oh you may not think me pretty, _  
><em> But don't judge on what you see, <em>  
><em> I'll eat myself if you can find <em>  
><em> A smarter hat than me. <em>

_You can keep your bowlers black, _  
><em> Your top hats sleek and tall, <em>  
><em> For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat <em>  
><em> And I can cap them all. <em>

_There's nothing hidden in your head _  
><em> The Sorting Hat can't see, <em>  
><em> So try me on and I will tell you <em>  
><em> Where you ought to be. <em>

_ You might belong in Gryffindor, _  
><em> Where dwell the brave at heart, <em>  
><em> Their daring, nerve, and chivalry <em>  
><em> Set Gryffindors apart; <em>

_You might belong in Hufflepuff, _  
><em> Where they are just and loyal, <em>  
><em> Those patient Hufflepuffs are true <em>  
><em> And unafraid of toil; <em>

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, _  
><em> if you've a ready mind, <em>  
><em> Where those of wit and learning, <em>  
><em> Will always find their kind; <em>

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_  
><em> You'll make your real friends, <em>  
><em> Those cunning folks use any means <em>  
><em> To achieve their ends. <em>

_ So put me on! Don't be afraid! _  
><em> And don't get in a flap! <em>  
><em> You're in safe hands (though I have none) <em>  
><em> For I'm a Thinking Cap!<em>

Students started clapping, which echoed thunderously throughout the Hall. When it stopped McGonagall spoke up, "When I call your name you will come up, put on the hat and sit on the stool. Understand?," she looked across the first-years, "Abbott, Hannah."

To his right, Hannah's eyes widened. She stumbled forward and onto the seat. McGonagall placed the hat on her. It was barely a second before the Hat cried out, "Hufflepuff!"

The Hufflepuff table clapped loudly. "Bones, Susan."

Susan, to Harry's left, walked more calmly, but still quite nervous. She sat down on the bench and McGonagall placed the Hat on her head. "Hufflepuff!"

It went along in this vein with students being called up and sorted. Hermione Granger was sorted into Gryffindor, Neville Longbottom was sorted into Gryffindor, and Draco Malfoy was sorted into Slytherin. He looked quite smug about that. Harry tuned out the rest of the Sorting until McGonagall said, "Potter, Harry."

Harry nodded and calmly strode towards the hat, hearing whispers of, "Is that really Harry Potter?" and "It's Harry Potter!" That irked him. When he sat on the stool and McGonagall, Harry felt the slight magic coming from the Hat. Interesting.

_"Yes...quite interesting indeed, Harry," _a voice spoke in his mind.

Harry wondered who the voice was, obviously not him. Then, noticing the magic, he realized it was the hat, _"Oh, sorry Hat. So, what house are you going to sort me in?"_

_"You would do great in Slytherin, friends to help you along. You'd achieve greatness, and power quite fast," _the Sorting Hat told him.

_"Yeah...I'd rather not. Slytherin was Voldemort's old house, and when he comes back...well...I'd rather not be ostracized."_

_"Gryffindor, then. You'd be the Golden Boy, supported by your friends. Everyone would believe you then."_

_"No thanks. I just don't feel any connection to Gryffindor. Hey, why don't you list of my traits?"_

_"Smart idea, Harry. Hmm...You are courageous, but not daring. You are hard-working and not scared of toil, but not too loyal. You have a smart mind, ready to learn, but you do not have the attitude of a Ravenclaw. You are cunning, so much cunning, but not too ambitious. You have traits of each house, but nothing solid on any of them. Which house would you like to be in?"_

_"...Can I make my own house?"_

A laugh echoed across the Hall, _"You aren't the first student who asked me that. Very funny, Harry, but no, you cannot make your own house."_

_"That's...saddening. Well, okay, let's think here; not Slytherin, I told you the reasons before. Not Gryffindor, they just don't sit right with me...Maybe Ravenclaw, but I'd be the black sheep. Hufflepuff would be angry at me if I betrayed their trust, but I could handle that...Hufflepuff it is, then. If you may, take it away!"_

_"Okay then," _the Sorting Hat yelled, "Hufflepuff!"

Harry's sorting took about ten minutes, quite a bit longer than anyone else. The Hufflepuff table cheered, yelling, "We got Harry Potter!"

A seat opened up beside Susan, so he sat there, smiling with his now house-mates. The Sorting then continued on, with Ron Weasley being sorted into Gryffindor and Blaise Zabini being sorted into Slytherin. When the clapping died down, the old man in the middle seat of the teacher's table sat up. He looked crazy, with the light reflecting off his eyes, which made them look like they were twinkling, "Hello, hello. Before we eat, I would like to say some words; Oddment! Blubber! Tweak! Thank you." The man sat down.

Harry just looked at the man with a twitching eye. Was he the only sane wizard in all of Britain?

* * *

><p>Author's Note: Well...sometimes I think I can do things, then I realize I can't. This one, is quite serious on my part and I'll try to update when I can. Don't expect anything though...hope you enjoyed. Also, any question please put it in the comments section or send me a message.<p>

Sting like a butterfly, float like a bee,  
>Verrarria...out.<p> 


End file.
